The Singularity
by Amailia
Summary: The Doctor has found a new companion, one who is almost able to match him intellectually.   Currently this is only the first chapter.  Original Companion/11th Doctor


To say her life had changed since she met the Doctor was, quite mildly, an understatement. Aino Wallace had been respectably happy in her prior life. Well, maybe not happy, but content. Maybe complacent. Either way, it had been at least normal. Orphaned at the age of ten, she was raised by three foster families, her late parents seemingly having no known relatives, at least to speak of. She had thought it strange to have no relatives whatsoever, and assumed her parents had secluded themselves from other family members for a reason. If her parents didn't trust them to raise her, she was better off without. Her memory of her parents was faint to say the least, but she had always maintained a definitive respect for them, their decisions for themselves, for her. She remembered them fondly, with the eyes of a child. Tall, though she knew they certainly weren't extraordinarily so, wise, stoic, almost super human, well to her, not almost.

She attended a primary school for the gifted, being revered early in life as somewhat of a genius. She scoffed at this now, comparing her mind to the Doctor's. She had a difficult enough time maintaining her thoughts, a mile a minute, two, three, ten all at once, on topic, off topic, (and whose topic?) reality… or not. She couldn't imagine the kind of thought processes he must have, with a mind like that. Though physiologically they seemed no different than humans, the Time Lord mind must have a greater capacity than human beings. They could live to be hundreds, maybe thousands of years old, the memory and knowledge one could learn over so long couldn't be contained in the meager mind of a human. She was already getting distracted…

At age 16 she enrolled at Stanford University, majoring in Applied Physics. For two years she drifted between Nanoscience and Theoretical Physics, until deciding to leave her scholarships and investors behind in favor of independent study. Honestly, she had found the whole experience trite. It wasn't that she felt superior, though her actions surely didn't come off as humble, it was truly that she felt it all completely unnecessary. Nothing a Professor had spoke to her in those two years was anything that was news to her. After giving it what she felt was a good run for her (though definitely not _her_) money, she respectfully backed out. She believed she could put herself to more useful work independently than anything she could hope to accomplish from a formal degree. (Granted, not two years later after making groundbreaking strides in Quantum Engineering, she did receive an honorary doctorate from Stanford.)

She had never really felt in place… correct. Definitely not in primary school, though before attending college she did have an inkling of hope that she may find some solace amongst peers at a university. When this proved to be false she simply retreated into herself even more. Her close friends (she did not have many) and most recent foster family worried, and made their concern quite audible. She needed to call more often, to go out with friends, experience the world, get a boyfriend – or a girlfriend – they wanted anything to prove to themselves that she was normal. She was anything but.

That's when the Doctor arrived.

* * *

><p>The shock was beginning to wear off. <em>Bigger on the inside, it's bigger on the inside.<em> She felt her mind beginning to form various ways in which this kind of technology was possible. _What would it require? There were three, four, five ways this could start... but the power required… _She had to forcibly stop her mind from continuing down that path. She wasn't sure she could handle all the possible outcomes, or rather precursors, and her mind was still reeling from the many other occurrences in the last hour.

The Doctor saw her discomfort, her mind whirling and lurching, reaching out for answers but unable to quantitate or quantify anything. Anything. _If this was possible, what wasn't? _The Doctor knew that most of the humans he brought on board never even tried going very far with the _why?_ They were better off that way, they saw it with their own two eyes, best they could, and it just was. Didn't require any explanation beyond that. Sure they were still shocked, awed, amazed (and he did so enjoy that doe-eyed look of astonishment) but never needed the justification. He was afraid the visual display may not be enough for this one. He took a step towards her, but she put a hand up as if to say, 'no need'.

"It's alright," she managed, her eyes still racing to and fro, calculating every turn and curve and nook and crevice, light, doorway, hallway, console, "You don't need to explain it to me. I'm just going to stop thinking about it now."

"Are you… sure?" the Doctor said, incredulous, "I could attempt to explain it. I hardly get it myself. I used to know. I think. I suppose, I mean. I'm sure I used to know. I still do. Nevermind, I do. It's basically another dimension."

She stopped him again, smirking, "But not so basically, right?"

The Doctor shook his head no, absolutely not.

"It's alright Doctor, I think it's better left alone." She took a deep breath and steadied herself on the railing that lead up to the heart of the TARDIS. "I've been pushing my mind too hard lately anyway, it… can't. Shouldn't." The Doctor smirked, understanding, but amused that she spoke of her mind as another entity entirely, and then stepped aside to let her finish taking in her surroundings.

She pushed her fairly long, chestnut colored hair behind her shoulders, made to look quite red in the orangey glow of the TARDIS control room. She ran her hand along the cold metal railing, as if to maintain balance even though they were squarely parked. She started encircling the main console, running her fingers delicately along the varied and somewhat retro-looking controls. She stopped and splayed a troublesome grin across her face. "Do _all_ these controls actually _do_ something?"

This took the Doctor off guard a bit, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she flicked randomly at a yellow switch. The Doctor stepped forward quickly, as if to stop a child from touching something hot, then reeled back, hands up defensively when he realized the switch didn't seem to actually do anything.

"Well not all of them, maybe," he said, wringing his hands a bit nervously, as if his property had just been vandalized. She noticed.

"Sorry," she was being sincere, "I just. I mean. You weren't kidding."

"No," he drug out the syllable in an attempt to emphasize that he was never, rarely, if ever… kidding. He watched as she continued looking at every panel, switch, wire, light, then eventually to him. She met his gaze with definition; it held no skepticism, no doubt. All traces of suspicion completely and utterly absent, maybe having never been there in the first place. She held his gaze for what normally would have been a very uncomfortable amount of time.

However it felt neither forced nor strange. It felt necessary, actually. Necessary so she could convey to him her belief. He seemed to need it, be waiting for it... belief or approval or both. She believed in him, believed in the TARDIS. Believed in all this, in everything he had ever seen and she could possibly ever see. It seemed, right. It seemed normal, like it should exist and always had existed and were there places or times when it didn't, then those places and times shouldn't be, and this, the Doctor and the TARDIS, should always be.

All this conveyed in this one look, in her deep green eyes. Pools of unending belief and loyalty and light. She, in turn, could see some of the truths in his eyes. He kept some hidden, she knew, but the age in his eyes was undeniable. He had seen and done things over hundreds of years that should be completely without understanding.

But she understood. She didn't have, or need, the details, she could feel the torment he had been through, would be through, would never escape, would end him. She wanted to know more, to know all of it, to be his confidant, maybe even his friend. But more importantly, to partake, contribute… help. To help him determine right from wrong, or when doing wrong was right.

She scoffed at her thoughts now, for thinking the Doctor might need someone else. He did not seem the type to need. He merely wanted a companion, for company, or, maybe just to show off to? However, there was a certain… sadness in his eyes. Loneliness. She took a moment to read the Doctor's expression, to gauge his expectations. Though he appeared not a day over thirty, his eyes were those of a very old man, one who had spent too much of his life alone. Had to make too many tough decisions, had the Universe, maybe even other Universes, turn their backs on him too many times, surprise him, good or bad, just too frequently.

Maybe the Doctor did need her, she wasn't sure. But one thing she did know for sure, for the first time in her twenty-three year life, she felt very, seriously, in place. Correct. Solace. This was where she should be, was meant to be.

* * *

><p>Aino woke with the sensation of being at home, in her own bed. Her eyes still closed she soaked in the familiarity, then began to think about her plans for the morning. Where did she have to be? Did she have time for coffee? Only upon turning over to her side to check her cell phone did she realize she was definitely not home. Everything came back to her then, the memories of the previous day. Was she really on a time machine in outer space with a man who called himself the Doctor?<p>

She stood and surveyed her room, remembering the Doctor's quick but affective tour the prior evening. She dressed quickly and went into the hallway, racking her brain to remember which way was towards the control room. After wandering the identical hallways for some time, she eventually found herself, quite suddenly, toe-to-toe with the Doctor.

"Ah, great! This way then," he turned on his heel, grabbing her wrist and leading her down another identical hallway. She found herself wondering when and if the Doctor slept, as he looked strikingly exactly the same as when she'd left him the previous evening.

"Are you smelling me?" he inquired, halting and about-facing directly in front of her.

" 'Course not, why would I do that?" she riposted. There was heavy silence as the Doctor assessed her, then surprisingly, sniffed back.

She relented, "Just wondering if you've got a washroom."

"This vessel is infinitely big and you're wondering if I've got… a washroom?"

Still unsure of how to properly interact socially with a half-millennia old alien, Aino remained silent.

"Do I smell like I've a washroom?" he asked.

"Yes actually," she sniffed again, "Your soap seems to have quite a nice scent."

She couldn't help but grin, this whole exchange seemed rather ludicrous.

"Very good then," he piped, seeming quite relieved that the situation had been resolved, and he turned about again and continued leading her down the hall. Two more halls, Aino was thoroughly lost now, and through a door finally resulted in the control room of the TARDIS.

"Alrighty," the Doctor pronounced, rounding the circular center control panel and thrusting his hands up in a grand manner. She followed closely, checking the various read-outs and screens, hoping for a clue as to where they were.

The Doctor grinned coyly and leaned toward her, "Where to?"

She was somewhat taken aback by this. She had no idea how to answer a question like that when the possible answers lied anywhere between all of space and all of time.

"Surprise me?" she said, and his response was so swift she wondered if he'd expected her answer all along. In a whirl of knob-switching and button-pressing, including many unnecessary full-body spins, the Doctor set their course, and then he gave her a wide grin and told her to, "Hold on."


End file.
